Enough About 'Gates' as Art; Let's Talk About That Price Tag

One million square feet of nylon fabric. Five thousand tons of steel. Sixty miles of vinyl tubing. Lots of nuts and bolts.

And a $21 million price tag.

Along with the lofty questions posed by "The Gates" (Is it art? What is art? And haven't we heard enough of this project?), another query has flitted through the minds of some visitors to Central Park in recent weeks. How did the artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude manage to spend that much money on their tangerine dream?

To pose the question out loud smacks of ingratitude, particularly given what is widely viewed as the project's benefit to the city: drawing thousands of foreign tourists and pumping an estimated $254 million into New York's economy. And the artists have paid for the project entirely on their own, using no public or corporate money, and therefore do not need to justify their expenses. They financed "The Gates" by selling other pieces of their own artwork, which their associates say increased in value over the past year as anticipation for the Central Park project grew.

On the other hand, it is that unique financing system, of relying on the promise of "The Gates" to maximize the profits needed to pay its $21 million bill, that poses the question of how the bill was determined. And while Christo and Jeanne-Claude have freely volunteered the project's high cost, they steadfastly refuse to explain how they came to that figure.

Despite their reticence, or perhaps because of it, the question has taken root in the usual places. On the Internet, bloggers have calculated the probable prices of extruded vinyl and rip-stop nylon, but have come up millions of dollars short. Journalists have pestered the artists' representatives to break down the costs, to no avail.

A New York filmmaker who dared to dissect the $21 million figure on his Web site was savaged in an anonymous e-mail message, which included a suspiciously European-sounding putdown: "You ridiculous apprentice of nothing!"

Searching for anything that would explain the project's costs, a New York Times reporter set out on a quest that included visits to drab municipal offices, calls to zipper-mouthed contractors and a climactic confrontation with Christo in Central Park. In the end, it appears that at least some of the grand price tag for "The Gates" may be as conceptual as the work itself, and the effort to assess its cost ultimately proved futile, particularly given the vagaries of the marketplace and the singularity of such an artistic enterprise.

"Considering that this work of art went on for over 26 years, it would be difficult to itemize every aspect of design, planning and other expenses associated with it," said Jonita Davenport, the project director for "The Gates." Of the $21 million estimate, which the artists put forth shortly before the project was completed, she said, "This is the best-guess estimate that they've decided to release."

The first stop was the city Parks and Recreation Department, which oversees Central Park. Megan Sheekey, a spokeswoman there, said that the city never asked for details of what Christo and Jeanne-Claude spent, and that the artists had made clear they did not want to divulge that information.

"I know that with public projects, you're used to getting it," Ms. Sheekey said. "But this was paid for with private money, so..."

The department did have a 50-page "art installation agreement" that provided a few clues about costs. It showed, for example, that the artists agreed to donate $3 million to the Central Park Conservancy, and pay $70,000 to the city for park patrols and up to $250,000 for incidental expenses. They also obtained a $1 million letter of credit from Deutsche Bank to cover cleanup costs and purchased liability and workers' compensation insurance policies.

What about those insurance policies? Scott Hodes, a Chicago lawyer who has represented Christo and Jeanne-Claude for 40 years, said insurance was "a factor, but certainly not a material factor" in the total cost of the project. He said he did not know how the $21 million figure was determined, but that it probably reflected expenses dating back to 1979, when the artists first proposed "The Gates."

"A lot of people are asking the same question that you are," Mr. Hodes said. "That number has been bandied about, and I suspect the actual number is somewhere in that range, I would guess."

Useful as it was, the parks department paperwork shed no light on construction costs. For "The Gates," the artists and their project managers, the husband-and-wife team of Vince and Jonita Davenport, mostly used manufacturers in the Northeastern United States to save money on trucking, although the nylon fabric was woven at a factory in Germany. The companies involved would not disclose cost information.

Another approach was tried. What if a general contractor not involved in the project was given the specifications and asked to provide a quote?

Calls to a half-dozen New York area contractors found none willing to take the plunge. Typical was the response of an executive at Regele Builders in Manhattan.

"You want an estimate for what?" she said.

Fortunately, Christo and Jeanne-Claude have provided a detailed list of ingredients for "The Gates." Certain materials - the steel footings, vinyl frames and nylon panels - are easier to put a price on than others.

An error has occurred. Please try again later.

You are already subscribed to this email.

Based on wholesale prices during the last two years and depending on when it was purchased, 5,290 tons of steel - equal to two-thirds the amount used in the Eiffel Tower - could have cost between $2 million and $5 million.

The hollow vinyl frames were essentially the same material used for fence posts. The retail cost - usually much higher than wholesale - of 5-inch square vinyl fence post is about $2.50 per foot, or $790,000 for the amount used in "The Gates."

The rip-stop nylon is a little more complicated to calculate, but several wholesalers would sell the basic material for between $500,000 and $1 million, although it would still need to be sewed together.

None of these back-of-the-napkin numbers include the cost of fabrication; labor to deliver, store and assemble the finished products; smaller components, like aluminum corner reinforcements, leveling plates and 165,000 nuts and bolts; and engineering and materials testing.

Greg Allen, an art collector and former private equity investor in New York who says he has an early work of Christo's, did his own analysis of "The Gates," which he posted on a Web log he operates.

He estimated that the fabrication, labor and ancillary materials, together, cost a little more than $3 million, and he said he had a hard time believing that the total project cost exceeded $10 million.

"I can't help but think that the $21 million figure reflects their sense of their own generosity," Mr. Allen said. "But just because you've spent a lot of time and money on something doesn't mean it's very good."

Whatever the final price tag, the artists expect to recoup the cost of the project. In addition to selling drawings and mock-ups of earlier projects, Christo has already created many renderings of "The Gates," which he signs and sells to collectors and museums for as much as $1 million.

The artists said they sold $15.1 million worth of art last year to help pay for "The Gates," again raising the question of the project's cost.

Perhaps a visit to "The Gates," most of which were still standing last Tuesday, would provide inspiration for finding the elusive explanation.

Somewhere between the skating rink and the boathouse in Central Park, Christo appeared, made easy to spot by the white winter hat perched on his head like a large marshmallow. He was scrambling around a snow-covered ledge, directing his photographer to snap the last pictures of his orange masterpiece.

Approached by a reporter who offered his hand in greeting, Christo hesitated before slowly reciprocating with a gloved hand, palm down, in the manner of royalty. Asked how he calculated the total cost of the project, Christo's eyes narrowed and he stepped back, waving his hand dismissively.